


The Heart of a Nightmare

by Vellenox



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Nightmares, anchor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-18
Updated: 2015-01-18
Packaged: 2018-03-08 01:16:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3190352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vellenox/pseuds/Vellenox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cullen awakens from a nightmare and calms himself with a little help from his anchor (facing demons - his inner demons that is).</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Heart of a Nightmare

Cullen awoke with a start; a thin layer of sweat slick across his forehead and neck. His heart was still throbbing in his chest, fresh adrenaline pumping through his veins with every wild heartbeat. The malicious visions that haunted him in his sleep were still at the forefront of his mind, transforming the shadows of his darkened room into living nightmares that set his nerves on edge. There was nowhere he could hide from them; from his past.

His flushed, clammy skin prickled as he kicked his bed sheets away from himself, exposing him to the crisp, night air that the hold’s stone walls and his room’s damaged ceiling did little to abate. Under layers of fabric he could still feel the cold seeping into his bones, but the frigid temperature helped moderate the sweats he broke into every night while he attempted to sleep.

He reached over to where he’d placed his candle the night before, the only light to guide his way being the moon and starlight shining through the gaping holes in the roof. Upon lighting the wick the shadows in both his room and in the depths of his mind melted away in the warm, flickering light.

He sat for a while in silence – although Skyhold was never truly void of sound, as busy as it was with the recent influx of Inquisition forces – and concentrated on levelling his breathing and the beating of his heart. It was always difficult to regain his mind after an episode; the visions were vivid and intense, and the strength required to pull himself away from the edge of descend often left him drained.

Thinking about _her_ made it easier. He knew he shouldn’t become dependent on her – so much depended on her already, like the fate of the world as they knew it – but he held no control over it once it had begun.

The Inquisitor was an amazing woman. From the moment he laid eyes on her he’d felt something stir within him, a part of himself which had been dormant for far too many years. There was an elegance about her features – all graceful curves and sharp eyes – and the way she carried herself displayed the true power and finesse she possessed. She may not have naturally been born into a position of leadership or nobility, but she was meant to head the Inquisition.

As he sat drenched in the darkness he recalled a recent moment alone with her to his mind in hopes that the memory of her lips pressing against his would set his heart on a new, much brighter rhythm. Years ago he would have never allowed himself to encourage those feelings which had developed so gradually unbeknownst to him, but she had far greater courage than him, and resisting her was pointless.

His past still haunted him – it’s what fed the night terrors; the fall of the Fereldan Circle, the rebellion and corruption of Kirkwall, and the destruction of Halamshiral. He had been powerless each time, helpless to prevent the loss of innocent lives. He felt an insurmountable weight of regret for the things he had done and the things he had _not_ done, but he was beginning to accept that the past would remain as such, and the present is what would determine the future.

After a while he began to settle – his feelings stirred, but they were for her rather than for himself. The sky above was still dark, but the first signs of sunrise were slowly beginning to paint the night with the rich vibrancy of a pink, warm sunrise. At the peak of dawn he dragged himself out of bed and donned his day’s attire, readying himself for the trial of training all the latest recruits of the Inquisition.

When he reached his offices he was instantly met by a bright-eyed courier, handing him a written missive detailing the day’s duties. A note attached to the first letter supplied him with news of the Inquisitor’s departure later on in the afternoon from the hold. It always gave him mixed feelings – he worried about her safety, but he also cherished the quiet visits she always made to his offices before taking her leave. A large part of his worry was that he wasn’t there to protect her. Whichever quest she embarked on, whichever region she travelled to, he could not accompany her or the rest of her party.

His sole purpose was to train, structure, and lead the military forces from the safety of the hold. It frustrated him to no end that he was no longer capable to be out in the field – according to Cassandra he was in no state to be directly involved with combat anymore. Being both sleep deprived as well as lacking the extra boost that Lyrium provided, he would be more of a hindrance than a help.

With a sigh he set the letter down on his cluttered desk.

Another long day, another goodbye, but he had sworn an oath and he was committed to the Inquisition. His struggles were significantly less important than the stakes at hand, and even though he wasn’t operating at full strength, he was going to ensure that his soldiers – the Inquisitor’s soldiers – were.


End file.
